


The Festival of the All-Spark

by ntldr



Series: The Iacon Prophecy Series [4]
Category: Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: M/M, Sideswipe can't even, a tent catches on fire, barbarian au, failure to mix drinks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-19
Updated: 2018-02-19
Packaged: 2019-03-21 04:43:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,785
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13733403
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ntldr/pseuds/ntldr
Summary: Barbarian AU, set in the Iacon Prophecy Universe.The camp's three city-mechs are acting strangely.  Sideswipe wants ingredients.  Sunstreaker wants felts.  Perceptor wants all the lanterns he can find.





	The Festival of the All-Spark

**Author's Note:**

> A much-overdue fic for the wonderful @vintagemechanics! Thanks for being so patient!
> 
> This story is set between the events of "Iacon Prophecy" and "Iacon Legacy," once the Autobots have settled into their new home.

Sitting outside was no longer as comfortable as it had been in the warmer, temperate climate of the wildland plains, but Sideswipe enjoyed it nonetheless. His task involved more than a few unusual scents as well, and he prefered not to be cooped up in the tent and have what should have been warm, rich smells stifling the air until it was too thick and killed the mood. 

If he were back in Kaon he would have done this in a prep area with the fans blasting, taking the leftover smells out to the streets and adjacent buildings, and making his neighbors jealous. Nearly half a planet away from the city now, the natural flow of air currents in the valley kept his work from becoming too overwhelming in the space around him, but just like back in the city his concoction was attracting nearby mechs.

A scowl from Sunstreaker kept most of them at bay, the golden mech positioning himself to both block his brother’s machinations from direct sight of the rest of the tribe and to give himself a front-row seat at the mat where Sideswipe had set up his ‘laboratory.’ Hound, though, couldn’t make himself ignore the smells, and eventually he braved the glowering stares from Sunstreaker to plop himself down next to the twins, to one side of the collection of earthen bowls and city-manufactured cubes.

“Whatever that is, it smells heavenly. What are you doing?”

Sideswipe didn’t look up from where he was sprinkling a dust of powder into a cube in the center, his glossa stuck out at the side of his mouth. “Crafting.”

“Crafting what?”

“A drink. Back at home--I mean, back in Kaon, I used to try to make my own drinks.”

“It’s a hit or miss, but when it’s a hit, it’s good,” Sunstreaker huffed, keeping his blue optics on the center cube that Sideswipe was concentrating on. “Might work to his advantage that there are _less_ ingredients to choose from out here. He can’t go crazy and put a whole bunch of slag together.”

“Hey!”

“Am I wrong? You’re the mech who thought that he could mix in used factory oil.”

“I was trying to get a good _crunch_ to it.” Picking up the cube, Sideswipe swirled it’s contents gently, mixing them together without agitating them. “So I’ve made a few mistakes in my experiments. So what? All the best scientists need to have some failures to find what works and what doesn’t.”

“You’re not a scientist. And you’ve had more _doesn’t_ -es than _does_ -es."

“If you hate my drinks so much, Sunny, go take your aft somewhere else.”

“Someone needs to rescue you when you end up poisoning yourself.”

“Uh-huh.”

Hound’s head had been swiveling back and forth between the twins. When Sideswipe lifted the cube up higher to inspect the bottom for sediment, Hound leaned over towards Sunstreaker and stage-whispered at him, blue optics flicking to the drink that was drawing the attention of anyone who walked by. 

“The drinks that he crafts correctly really are that good?”

Sunstreaker’s faceplates pinched further. “I have first dibs.”

“I’m getting why Perceptor likes his experiments so much,” Sideswipe cackled, satisfied that the cube had mixed well. “Science is fun!”

“This isn’t science, you dolt, this is _drink mixing.”_

“Same slag. The difference is that I don’t need to write it down. It’s a hundred times more valuable than anything a lab could come with, so I keep the recipe safe in my own processor.” One black finger tapped the side of his helm. “Nobody knows it but me.”

“Good, so the next time you get smacked during weapons practice and get your processor loosened, you’ll think that you were supposed to add Minotoron milk to sweeten it.” 

“Ugh. Sunny, don’t ruin this for me.”

Hound leaned forward. “Speaking of Perceptor, have you two seen what he’s been doing?”

Sunstreaker’s lips curled back. “No, I don’t know, and I don’t care.”

“...Drink’s that good?”

“Go away, Hound.”

Sideswipe’s optics lifted. “What’s Perceptor doing? Wait.” He paused, then set the cube down, much to Sunstreaker’s rumbling discontent. “Is he trying to put lights up around his house--I mean, his tent?”

“...How did you know that? Is this another city-mech thing?”

“ _Sa!_ Well...kinda? Perceptor’s from Tarn, and me and Sunny are from Kaon, so maybe he celebrates it different than we do. I haven’t heard him say anything about making a gift for Drift, and you’d think if he was, he wouldn’t be able to keep his mouth shut about it.”

“But what’s that got to do with him putting lanterns all around the outside of his tent and driving Ironhide insane because they might--”

Sideswipe’s spark felt his mate’s approach just before he came around the corner, and he was already turned Prowl’s way as the white mech came within their line of sight and headed directly for them.

“Prowl!”

The cube was snatched up, barely missing the golden fingers that had tried to eagerly steal it before it could be taken away. Sideswipe all but bounced over to his mate, who had lifted his doorwings up high upon seeing how particularly goofy and enthusiastic Sideswipe’s smile was as the cube was thrust towards him.

“Drink this, and tell me what you think of it.”

Prowl refreshed his optics once at the unfamiliar mixture. “...I…”

“Go on!” The energon threatened to spill out over the side as it was fumbled between them, white hands scrambling to grip it while black ones held it and them both. “Seriously, I want to know what else I should add to this, or if I should take anything away. All you nomads like out of your high-grade is it to be _fermented.”_

“Is there something wrong with the tribe’s high-grade?”

“ _Sa,_ it tastes fragging awful!”

The cube was held up and eyed warily, Prowl pursing his lips as he inspected the odd coloring. “So what did you add to this one to make it high-grade?”

“A little of this, a little of that. What, don’t you trust me?”

“ _Na.”_

Sideswipe’s vocalizer whined as he exaggerated a pout. Along the bond between him and his mate he faked a _rejected_ broadcast, only to replace it with a far more sincere _humor_ when Prowl’s answer was the spark equivalent of a huff. “But I worked so hard on it!”

“Prowl, if you’re worried about being poisoned,” Sunstreaker said as he walked up behind his twin, “then I will volunteer to try it first.”

“No you absolutely will slagging not!”

Hound had come up to, and was raising his hand. “Uh, mechs, you really should talk to Perceptor about the--”

He was ignored, both the twins focused instead on Prowl, who had uncharastically thrown caution to the wind and gulped down several mouthfuls of the drink, trusting his mate. And then immediately regretted it. He sputtered, he winced, and he extended the cube back towards Sideswipe as he doubled over and coughed.

“What was that?!” he gasped, his doorwings pulling tightly to his back.

Sideswipe’s shoulders had fallen. He held the cube close to himself. “High grade that tastes more like what I would get in the city. Aw, slaggit all, Prowl. That wasn’t a prank this time, I promise…”

“It was, ah… _unexpected!”_

“That’s one way to put it,” Sunstreaker grumbled as he plucked the rest of the cube out of Sideswipe’s hand as his twin rushed to attend to his mate. The golden mech took a sniff, a small sip, then swirled the energon around as he considered it with a wrinkled nose. “...A little too bitter for me, but not bad. Not _that_ bad. What’s wrong with him?”

“He’s never had city-made high-grade before. He doesn’t know what to make of it. Right Prowl? That’s all it is, right?”

Prowl’s vents wheezed and rattled, but he took Sideswipe’s hand anyway and gripped it, squeezing his fingers when his vocalizer failed to put into words what he was broadcasting across their bond instead. “Must be.”

“Frag, I’m really sorry, Prowl. That was supposed to be a-- _Sunny stop drinking that!_ That’s Prowl’s!”

“He doesn’t want it.” Another sip, and the golden mech smacked his lips. “I’m disposing of this for you.”

He was about to take another mouthful, until Hound suddenly burst forward and straight into him, sending what he’d gotten into his mouth straight back into the cube with a surprised “HRUGFF?!” He barely had time to cough out a snarl as the green mech shot past him, completely ignorant to how close to death he come by brushing up against Sunstreaker’s cloak, instead shouting and pointing further down the camp.

_“FIRE!!”_

All activity around them ceased for a beat.

Everyone, including their onlookers, had turned to find the smoke. 

And then everything _erupted._

Coughing fit forgotten, Prowl raced after Hound, Sideswipe and Sunstreaker right behind him. A fire could be devastating for a camp, able to quickly spread from tent to tent and endangering anyone nearby, especially those who could not quickly scramble out of its path. With all of the tribe’s material possessions packed together, a fire finding its way inside a tent could easily catch and grow out of control. The alarm was raised through the entire tribe in seconds.

By the time the group arrived it was already out, with little damage having been done before action was taken. Drift had pulled down the part of his tent that was burning and had beaten it out before it could spread any further. Several other Autobots were helping, stomping out the singed cloth or beating it with mats and blankets, tearing up the material and keeping it contained, while Perceptor had snatched up Backburn and was standing a safe distance away with his sparkling, who looked to be more fascinated than frightened by the surging crowd of mechs and femmes coming to help.

Several more Autobots were taking down several lanterns that had been strung up _outside_ of the tent, too close to the material that had been scrubbed with Minotoron grease to make it waterproof. It didn’t take a high-functioning processor to figure out what had happened, and with the fire safely contained Prowl stormed towards Perceptor.

“I would think, as brilliant as you are, you would know better than to try to hang lanterns on the tent’s exterior frame!” His vocalizer still rattled and spat static, wanting to continue to purge the rest of Sideswipe’s high-grade, but Prowl was far too _infuriated_ for that at the moment.

Perceptor hugged Backburn closer to him, a hand on the sparkling’s head. “I-I didn’t mean to cause a fire! I had thought that the lantern would keep any heat from conducting onto the material, but I didn’t account for the wind change and--”

“You could have put this whole tribe in danger! You could have injured your sparkling!”

“I thought it was safe enough!”

Prowl’s retort was cut off by Drift, who shoved the more senior Autobot aside to get to his mate, sending Prowl stumbling into Sideswipe’s hands. Not angry with his mate in the slightest, Drift gently took both sides of Perceptor’s helm and touched their foreheads together, his own voice far more soft and comforting, if not still tinged with alarm.

“It’s alright. You and Backburn are safe. I can patch the damage. You are safe.”

Perceptor gulped. “I truly did not mean to put anyone in danger.”

“And no one is now. You and Backburn are unhurt. That is my one and only concern.”

Prowl tried to shout again. “The fire could have spread--!” he started, then abruptly stopped when Sideswipe squeezed his arm.

“Prowl, it’s over. It’s out. Nobody got hurt, and Perceptor’s sorry. Let it go.”

“I need to make sure that he won’t make a poor decision like that again--”

“He won’t. Right, Percy?” Sideswipe said louder, drawing Perceptor and Drift’s attention. “You were just trying to celebrate Festival of the All-Spark, right? That’s what was the lights were about?”

“...Yes. _Sa.”_

Drift refreshed his optics down at his mate, then glanced at Sideswipe, then back down to Perceptor. “The...what?”

“The Festival of the All-Spark.” Perceptor’s free hand waved awkwardly at the air as he tried to explain himself without looking even more foolish. He only managed out a few stutters before he shook his head and turned back to Drift, seeking comfort in his arms again. “Nevermind. I made a mistake and surely won’t do it again. I’m sorry.”

Sideswipe’s spark sank. “Aw, Percy…”

He felt a nudge.

Not a physical one. Not a poke. Not a push.

Prowl had gone quiet, blue optics wide as he re-assessed the scene around him. Sideswipe kept a grip on his mate’s arm, warning him from further lecturing a mech who was now wiser and would not try to hang lanterns that close to the tent material again. 

The remaining embers were still smoldering and smoking, but as several mechs continued to stamp the pulled-down remains of the tent there was no chance that it would flare up and spread again. Now that the crisis was averted the tribe _yoska_ were staring at the three city-mechs, looking for answers as to why someone would do something so foolish.

Sunstreaker broke the awkward pause by stepping forward towards the ruined tent, glaring down at the cube still in his hand, then pouring out the remained over the material issuing the worst of the smoke. There was a hiss, another puff of lighter-colored smoke, and then that turned into harmless wisps that were lost to the wind.

“What a waste.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The only sounds from outside the tent were the soft footsteps of _yoska_ guards walking by when Sideswipe abruptly came out of his recharge. He checked his systems, booting up several that had been idling in low-power mode until now, the programs giving him answers that were just as sleepy and nonsensical until they were online. When he found nothing out of the ordinary that would have caused his recharge cycle to end, he yawned and wrapped an arm tighter around Prowl’s waist, snuggling his face into their shared pillows.

Prowl’s doorwings twitched.

The light glow of Sideswipe’s optics regarded the subtle motion from his mate, and then he groaned and rolled his shoulders, popping the lines and encouraging a new flow of energon into them.

Prowl was a master at hiding his emotions from others. As reasonable and logical as all of his processor functions were, no one would trust him if he did not maintain his image of stoicism to the point of exaggerating it.

A spark-bond with his mate had taught Sideswipe a different story about how _emotional_ Prowl could be. And recharging with his mate distraught and laying right next to him wasn’t possible, not when his own spark would snap to attention, wanting to soothe the waves anxiety coming down the bond.

“Whatever it is, you can figure it out in the morning,” he mumbled.

Prowl’s answering grunt was muffled, his face pressed into Sideswipe’s shoulder. “Mmrph.”

“No. It’s joors after sunset, and I want to sleep.”

“Hrrmph.”

“If you’re going to ask me to wake up, then I’m going to ask for a good frag.”

“...Mmmprh.”

“ _Well.”_ Sideswipe’s optics brightened considerably. “Now you have my attention.”

Prowl finally lifted his head up and stared at his mate. “I promise nothing. I am also tired.”

“Then we can both be doubly-tired for better reasons than whatever you’re thinking about. Right, what’s on your processor?”

“You understood what Perceptor was doing. The Festival of the All-Spark.”

“ _Sa._ Yeah, it’s practiced universally across Cybertron. Well,” he chuckled at how one of Prowl’s optic ridges had raised, “ _almost_ universally. I didn’t see any of you all getting ready for it, so I just assumed it wasn’t a thing out here and didn’t say anything. Is it?”

“I am unfamiliar with this festival.”

Sideswipe shifted around on their mat, grabbing one of the thicker blankets and draping it over both of them. Either his frame had compensated to become colder during recharge, or the temperature had dropped dramatically when the sun had set. 

“Perceptor could tell you all about its history and meaning. But basically, it’s a celebration of the life-cycle within the All-Spark. Every spark was born of it, every spark will return to it, and every spark will be reborn anew. There used to be a whole cult-thing that honored it, but now it’s something that cities do once a year to give thanks to the sparks that are close to yours.”

The blanket shuffled as Prowl’s doorwings perked up under them. “So then, Perceptor was trying to celebrate when he hung lanterns on the exterior of his tent.”

“ _Sa.”_

“And is it not _uncommon_ for those lanterns to light tents on fire?!”

“Not if you live in a city-constructed building!” Sideswipe cackled, his processor drawing up the idea of the maintenance drones back in Kaon struggling to nail hundred of wildland lanterns on posts along the streets. “Perceptor celebrates it a little different than the way that I do in Kaon. _Did,_ I mean. Some cities string up lights, our kind of lights, _electric_ lights. They criss-cross over streets and buildings and make everything look like its lit up like the inside of the All-Spark. When it gets dark and you can’t see the wires, it looks like there’s hundreds of lights, hundreds of thousands of _sparks_ floating above everyone’s heads.”

“That must be beautiful.”

“It is. Kaon wasn’t really up for doing it any more once Sentinel Prime came to power. He said it used up too much energy. I missed it though. It reminded me of the night sky. I think Sunny put his name on petition to use very light paint spotted on the buildings instead, but it never got anywhere.”

“So then that’s what Perceptor was trying to do.”

“ _Sa,_ pretty much. Prowl, I know that fires are really, _really_ bad, but he didn’t mean to do that and I guarantee he’ll never do it again. Lay off him, okay? Please?”

Prowl’s optics narrowed. “If it had spread--”

“Please?”

“...Fine. But not if it happens again.”

“See, this is how you get mechs to like you.” Sideswipe shifted so that he could lean down and briefly kiss his chevron. “Not by being a hard-aft about everything.”

“It’s how I protect our tribe.”

“Uh-huh. Now, how about some payback for waking me up--”

“What about how you celebrate?”

“Huh?”

Prowl was even more alert now, the blanket slipping off of his doorwings and to his waist as he leaned up, his optics returning to full power. “You celebrate the Festival of the All-Spark, _sa?!”_

“ _Sa.”_

“Then what do you--was it that drink? That drink had something to do with it. What sort of concoction do you make for the purpose of the festival?”

Sideswipe pursed his lips, his faceplates crinkling. “Was it really that bad?”

“Is that linked to the celebrations somehow? What significance to the All-Spark does it hold?”

“It’s significant to _me_ as a present to _you!”_

The intensity in Prowl’s optics instantly vanished. His doorwings lowered and flattened against his back.

“...Oh.”

“It’s okay.” Sitting up with a grunt, Sideswipe kept one hand gripping the mat underneath him for balance, the other gently stroking Prowl’s shoulder with the tips of his fingers. “I’ll try to make you a better one tomorrow. One that’s not as sweet, and more like what you’re used to out here.”

“You don’t have to after I’ve insulted you.”

“I _want_ to. You’re my mate. We don’t have _mates_ in the city, but we do give presents to the sparks that are closest to ours. You are _literally bonded to me._ Not sure how much closer we’re supposed to get than that.” He grinned. “I just might love you or something, huh?”

“...I insulted it, and you.”

“And that’s why I’ll make you a better one tomorrow.”

“I have nothing to give you in return.”

“Hey, you didn’t know about the Festival until today. If I expected something back when I show you that I love you, then that’s not really love, is it?”

“But I _do_ know now and I should give you a gift,” Prowl insisted firmly. 

Sideswipe’s smile turned sly. “Well, you _did_ wake me up. It’s a cold night, we both need to warm up, and since we’re both talking about how much we love each other--guh!!”

He winced when Prowl’s answer was to flop back down, arms tight around him once more, his head nuzzling into his shoulder as he switched his optics off.

“I need to recharge.”

“You’re so mean to me,” Sideswipe bemoaned, whining up at the ceiling of the tent even as he embraced his mate in turn. “Always ignoring me. So cruel. So terrible. Poor Sideswipe.”

“I have things to do in the morning.”

“ _Sa._ And you’re going to wake me up again in less than a joor if you don’t settle down.”

“I’m settled.”

Sideswipe _tweaked_ their bond, making Prowl jolt, his doorwings fluttering. “You can’t hide when you’re broadcasting, remember?”

“...Sorry.”

“Hmph.” Sideswipe turned off his optics as well. “If you wake me up again, I’m not recharging for anything less than a good, deep frag.”

Still, it took a long time before his own spark was ready to recharge again as well. He kept checking on the bond with his mate, curious, feeling the waves of excitement flowing out from the other mech, and he couldn’t help but wonder what Prowl was up to.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

When Sideswipe woke up at daybreak, Prowl was already gone. The blankets and furs had been tucked tightly around his shoulders, keeping him warm for the rest of the night after his personal heater went out to do...whatever he was doing. Sideswipe groaned, stretched, then instantly curled up again and threw one of the furs up and over his helm.

“Ugh! Fraggit all!”

The air was strut-chilling. They were nowhere near done with the cold snap yet, it seemed.

One furious conversation with Sunstreaker over their bond about how much easier it would be if the Autobots would just move into Iacon’s dilapidated buildings for the cold season (and more than a few jealous snarls that _Sunstreaker’s_ heater hadn’t left _him_ until they both could get up), and Sideswipe convinced himself to snatch his folded poncho and waist-cloth and dress himself under the blankets as fast as he could. Plating slicked down tight to conserve heat, he grumbled to himself the entire time about burning through his tank reserves just to keep himself warm, until he finally burst out of the tent with a yowl as the air bit into any part of him that was exposed..

At least inside the tent there hadn’t been _wind._

“ _Sweet Primus on a drone’s spike!!”_

Arms crossed tightly over himself, he hurried over to the southern edge of the camp, where other _yoska_ were gathering for morning practice. Nearly everyone was in the same mindset as him: growling and snarling, rubbing their exposed armor pieces to keep ice crystals from forming, and stomping their peds on the ground. Hoods were pulled up tightly, and everyone was bent slightly forward to save themselves from the wind.

 _Almost_ everyone.

“Brisk one today, eh?!” Trailbreaker grinned at everyone assembled.

“Shut the frag up.”

The black mech rumbled out a laugh, exaggerating his heavy armor bouncing up and down, for once carrying an advantage over everyone else. The medium-armored mechs, including Sideswipe, scowled at him.

Ironhide smacked the flat end of his newly-forged axe against a crystal outcrop, snapping everyone’s attention to him. “Right, ya’ll’re gonna warm up just fine once we start movin’! Groups of four, then split in two. Work in pairs against each other. The faster ya’ll get goin’, the faster ya’ll won’t be so cold anymore! Move!”

The _yoska_ didn’t need to be told twice, bringing out their weapons and scattering around the field, dividing up the spaces between them with only a few exchanged words needed. Sideswipe headed towards the southeast with Jazz, Hound and Trailbreaker, but before he took more than few steps he stopped, looked around in puzzlement, then turned back towards Ironhide.

“Have you seen Prowl?”

“Huh?” The mech was hurriedly wrapping strips of cloths around his palms, both to keep his hands warm and to stop the axe’s new handle from cutting into his platting until it was broken in.

“Prowl. White mech with a stick up his aft.”

“Ya’ll should be nicer to your mate,” Ironhide sniffed. “He left Iacon this mornin’. Said he was gonna go hunt.”

“...Why? We’re fine on supplies for the next deca-cycle. And any mecha-animals are going to be burrowed down while it’s this cold.”

“I told him the same thing. He’s a stubborn as you are. Said he had to go find somethin’ important.”

Sideswipe’s optics opened a little wider. “He thinks he needs to go find a present for me,” he breathed, then spoke up louder when Ironhide raised one optic ridge at him. “What kind of presents do Autobots get their mates? What would he be hunting for me?!”

“Dunno. Thought you just said that ya’ll were fine with supplies.”

“We are, but--gah, fraggit!” Sideswipe stomped around in a circle. “I didn’t tell him last night that we give _small_ presents for the Festival of the All-Spark! That son of a glitch is going to go try hunting, like, a hundred petro-rabbits for me or something! He’s going to wear himself out in the cold for a slagging _gift!”_

“For the--what?”

“Sides! Are you coming or what?!”

“Just a fragging breem!” Sideswipe snarled at Jazz, yanking his hood back up into place as he jogged over to him, leaving a bewildered Ironhide behind.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Doorwings wiggling, Bluestreak blew warm air into his hands and rubbed them together. “Sh-shouldn’t last much longer than a deca-cycle. Then the warm weather will be back.”

“It better be.” Sitting next to him, Sunstreaker struggled with the youngling perched in his lap. “Hold _still_ Hot Rod.”

“It’s caught!”

“It wouldn’t be if you’d hold still and let me put it on you correctly!”

Hot Rod huffed, then squeezed his optics shut as Sunstreaker tried again to yank the sewn cloth down over the kibble on his helm. It took several tries, but once he got it positioned correctly it sank down over the youngling’s head, covering it and the back of his neck. Hot Rod’s engine squealed as the top of it fell too far over his optics, and he tugged it back up.

“I’ve already got a helm! Why do I need this?!”

“Why do you need your poncho if you’ve already got armor?” Sunstreaker made one more adjustment, then sat back with a satisfied nod. “It’s to keep your head warm. Primus knows that your hood keeps falling off, and it’s way too cold for that nonsense.”

“It feels weird!”

“Yeah, well so does every other piece of clothing your tribe makes me wear.”

Sideswipe’s eyes flicked up from his work and he smirked at his twin. “If you don’t want the cloak, I’ll take it.”

“Uh-huh. Nice try.” The golden cloak was pulled tighter around the mech’s shoulders.

In a few breems Hot Rod was no longer trying to wiggle the hat off of his head, and now was instead intrigued by it. He played with the ends, shuffled his head back and forth underneath it, then cackled when the wind picked up again. “I don’t have to keep pulling it down!”

“That’s the point, now stop touching it. And you too!” Sunstreaker snapped at Springer as he walked by where the group was sitting in the Commons. “Keep that on if you don’t want your head to freeze!”

The green-and-yellow mech grumbled and made a show of adjusting the back of his new cloth hat, covering his neck against the wind. Another _yoska_ walking on the other side of the through-way stared at the new addition to his helm, and nearly walked into a tall crystal.

“If you’re giving presents to the sparks you’re closest to,” Hot Rod asked suddenly, “then why doesn’t Sideswipe get a hat?”

Sideswipe cackled as he dribbled a few drops of a blue substance into the main cube that he was working with. “He doesn’t need to. We’re twins. We know that we love each other.”

“Uh-huh. It’s because I don’t have enough material to fit over that big head of yours.”

Bluestreak grumpily rumbled his engine. “I want a mate to give presents to.”

“Who says they’ve got to be your mate?” Sideswipe lifted the cube up to inspect the bottom for sediment. “You’ve got a slag-load of friends in the tribe. Why don’t you find nice gifts for all of them?”

The gray mech sat up higher. “That’s...actually a really good idea! But how am I going to make a bunch of hats that fast?!”

“Blue, it doesn’t have to be a _big_ present. Just something little to say that you were thinking of them. Prowl got it in his head last night that he owed me big time for just this little thing of high grade.”

“Oh, so he doesn’t appreciate it? Here.” Sunstreaker offered his hand. “Your _twin_ would appreciate it.”

“Frag off. You ain’t getting slag until I’ve got a hat on my big, fat helm.” He shuddered, both hands gripping the cube now to not slosh the contents over the side. “Or a new cloak. I miss my cloak. This poncho barely helps in the cold.”

“I could sew you one.”

“I get a cloak _and_ a hat for Prowl’s drink?”

“No, one or the other.”

“No deal.”

“Fine, then freeze to death.”

“Fine.”

“Fine!”

Sideswipe looked directly at his brother’s scowl as he took a slow, testing taste of the drink that he’d mixed. “Mmm. Now this is some *fine* high grade.”

“You can kiss my aft.”

Hot Rod made an unimpressed face at both of them and then turned to Bluestreak. “Are all city-mechs like this?”

“I think we happened to get the extra _special_ ones.” One of Bluestreak’s optics winked at the youngling.

Sunstreaker took a deep inhalation to retort, but before he could he was interrupted by a howl that rumbled through the Commons. Several of the _yoska_ raised their heads, including Sideswipe and Sunstreaker, wary of an alarm being called, but in a few seconds the returns howls were gentler, longer, an answer of one Autobot calling to another.

“...I think Prowl’s back.”

“It’s about time,” Sideswipe snapped, hurrying to push the rest of his ingredients into a bundle of cloth before they could be scattered and lost. The sides of the containers clinked against one another as the mech tied a knot at the top. “Mech’s been gone all orn, probably looking for a gift for me, and-- _HOLY PRIMUS!!”_

The mech approaching the Iaconian camp _was_ Prowl. He howled one more time, doorwings flaring, greeting the _yoska_ on guard. His footsteps were slow and struggling, though, given the weight that he was baring over his shoulders. His hands were gripped tightly around four thin, spindly legs sticking out of a giant lump of--

“Is that a nitro-ram?!” Bluestreak scrambled to the feet, along with the rest of the group. “I haven’t seen a nitro-ram in vorns! I knew that they lived up in the mountains, and I did hear them bleating a while back in the middle of the night, but--”

“Prowl!!” Sideswipe clutched both sides of his black helm as his mate spotted them and changed his bearing to head directly at them. “Why did you get me a slagging _goat?!”_

“It’s a nitro-ram, not a goat!” Hot Rod called out as he ran forward to greet the _yoska,_ briefly trying to pull the creature off of Prowl’s shoulders before the mech brushed him off. 

“I don’t care! _Prowl!!_ You didn’t have to go hunt a _ram!!”_

“I...did,” Prowl countered breathlessly as he came upon where the group was rendezvousing with him. “I had to...get you a gift.”

“You dumb son of a glitch, I would have been happy with literally _anything!_ You didn’t have to bring me a...DEAD RAM?! Prowl, for Primus’s sake, you’re a mess. Did you wrestle with the thing or what?!”

“It fought back.”

“I was _kidding!!”_ As Prowl flopped the carcass of the nitro-ram onto the ground, Sideswipe rushed to his mate and embraced him, lifting him slightly off the ground as he did. “You’re insane. The best kind of insane, but still insane.”

“And in need of a healing recharge,” Prowl winced, keeping one of his doorwings that had taken the worst damage stiffly straight along his back, while the other one wobbled on its hinge.

“Frag, _sa, sa.”_ Sideswipe held him less tightly, but still didn’t let go. The cube was plopped into Prowl’s hand. “Here. The Festival of the All-Spark isn’t about giving _huge_ gifts, you dingbat. It’s about appreciating the sparks you have in your life. And as much as I love you, I do _not_ need a dead ram in our tent.”

“I didn’t hunt it just to have a ram.” 

“If it was supposed to be a pet, that’s going to be a little problematic now…”

Prowl turned his head back towards the rest of the group, who were either staring at or poking the nitro-ram, depending on the mech. “Sunstreaker. What would you be able to make out of its fleece?”

Blue optics flicked up at Prowl, surprised, before Sunstreaker knelt down and inspected the fluff growing all over the nitro-ram. He took a bit of the fleece between two fingers and gave it an experimental tug, just hard enough to see how well it would stand to be woven. “...It just so happens that Sideswipe was complaining about the cold just now. I think I can make a good cloak out of this, if you can watch Hot Rod for me.”

“Deal.”

Sideswipe’s jaw had fallen open. “...For frag’s _sake,_ Prowl. You didn’t have to do that.”

“Sure I did.”

He leaned up, and their lips touched.

Sideswipe wanted to complain more about him not needing such an enormous gift, let alone one that had injured his mate. But, for the moment...he didn’t.

He would have plenty of time to tease Prowl about his misunderstanding later.

Careful of his dents now, Sideswipe turned off his optics and drew him in close, and nearly missed Hot Rod’s question about why Drift was also returning with armfuls of containers of lightning bugs.


End file.
